


Dead Man's Affair

by oddsnends



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gun Violence, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 17:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddsnends/pseuds/oddsnends





	1. Chapter 1

She walked in, her hair perfectly in place, her lips painted a soft yet vibrant red, and her eyes drilling holes into anyone who met her stare. Unlucky for Finn, he had been the one asked to take her to Tommy’s office. The lady, barely taller than Aunt Pol was in her heels, held an uncomfortable manner of authority.

Finn had seen ladies like this, when he had gone out with the older boys, they were often the ones looking for a night time friend to take them home. Mrs. Clayton as she had introduced herself, in a no horseshit type of way, to Arthur was seeking a meeting with the great Thomas Shelby.

“He’s right in here, Ma'am.” Finn’s mousy voice cracked, as he opened the door to Tommy’s office, allowing the dark haired lady entrance.

“Thank you, for your assistance.” She coldly brushed off the boy.

Nodding to his younger brother, Tommy indicated Finn to take a seat in the corner. Best to be seen and not heard. On the stool in the corner, Finn held his breath as she woman removed her gloves and extended a hand for the boss to shake.

“Mr. Thomas Shelby.” Her voice softened ever so slightly. The American accent rolling off of her lips and onto Tommy’s ears like a smooth wind. “I’m Mrs. Eileen Clayton. I believe you were expecting me.”

“I was,” Tommy replied, his eyes flicking to Finn. “Finn, fetch me that bread Mr. Solomons sent earlier.”

Over her shoulder, Eileen could hear the gangly boy scurrying around, glasses clinked against one another in his haste to fetch the bottle of rum. Eileen wasn’t naive, everybody this side of town knew that Alfie Solomons was no baker, not of bread at least.

“Have a seat, Mrs. Clayton.” Tommy instructed, adjusting his waist coat returning to his chair. “Your husband had said…”

A curt, cold laugh echoed in Tommy’s ears as he spoke. “My husband? Oh, the great Thomas Shelby speaks to the dead? He is not my husband, but my business partner.”

The previous week, a man had come into the betting shop, asking that a Mrs. Eileen Clayton be allowed to speak with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby. Told that Tommy wasn’t in Birmingham that day, he had asked that Mrs. Clayton be seen as soon as possible. Odd that a husband would come making appointments for his wife; Tommy never questioned the cause and agreed to the meeting.

“There is no Mr. Clayton.” Eileen answered promptly. “Or should I say, he is no longer with us. Poor old Harry, such an unfortunate accident. Hunting accident, shot in the head, damn gun went off. You think a former soldier would know how to handle a weapon.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Tommy breezed over the topic. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together, his cool blue eyes attempting to burn holes into Eileen Clayton’s soul.

She wasn’t scared of him.

Tommy admired that.

“You may be the only one.” Eileen picked up a silver cigarette case from her purse. “Mr. Shelby, forgive me for being too forward, but we both know that I am not here to discuss my late husband.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” Tommy gave his head a slight shake. If one were to blink they would have missed it. Picking up a bottle of dark rum, he poured a glass. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Clayton?”

Smiling like the cat who’d ate the cream, Eileen sat straighter in her chair. “I believe you were once an associate to a dear friend of mine, May Carleton? Yes, well she tells me that you may have exactly what I am looking for.”

“What business does she believe we have for you?” Tommy’s interest was growing.

“There is a horse; Wapiti Windsong, striking bay with four stark white legs and a full white face, he’s never lost a race. My husband had debts, Mr. Shelby.”

“Money? Are you asking for money? I’m not a charity, Mrs. Clayton.”

Pouring another glass of rum, he pushed it toward the woman on the other side of the desk.

“I’m not.” Eileen scoffed, her lips pursing and her eyes narrowing at such a statement. “My husband’s horses raced on the legal tracks, under the guidance of Mr. Kimber. Since those days are past, I’ve come to you for business. You see, Mr. Shelby, I must make sure this horse wins his next race. I’ve an estate riding on it.”

Money tied up with bad bookies, sour bets, and a string of other bad habits had left Eileen Clayton scrambling to right her husband’s wrongs. She had known that Harold was a dog, a real bastard, after the war he’d began to gamble away everything they’d owned - nearly losing the estate a time or two. Mr. Clayton’s death had been a bit of a reprieve.

In a few short months after his death, the knocks of collections had stopped, halted for weeks and had given Eileen a false sense of hope. Stupid of her to think men wouldn’t be back to collect, their sympathy for a grieving widow would last only as long as she mourned.

“You’re familiar with Mr. Ó Cleirigh?” Her brow raised. “He has a horse, Murphy’s Morn. My horse outruns his, or his doesn’t run at all…I keep what belongs to me.”

“Hmm.” Tommy hummed, leaning back in his chair, he mulled over the silent but obvious request. “And you came to me? I’m sorry, Mrs. Clayton but I don’t think there is much I can do.”

“I’m willing to pay.” Eileen rebutted. “Help me and you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

“You don’t give up, easily.” Tommy noted, his brow knit. “What are you asking? A few horses pull up lame the morning of? A fever as they approach the start box? Jockeys go missing?”

“Perhaps, you’re a clever man. I’ll leave the strategics to you.” Eileen picked up the glass of rum, downing it in one gulp. “I’m only here to run my late husband’s affairs, you can call it a passion.”

“Unusual passion for a woman such as yourself.”

“I have a passion for fine horses and bad men, Mr. Shelby.” Eileen’s eyes flickered with a hint of mischief.

“Fine horses I have, bad men are a matter of opinions.” Tommy replied tipping the rum to his lips. Sucking in a breath after the drink had burned it’s way down, he plucked a cigarette from his pocket. “We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Clayton.”

Tommy wasn’t in the habit of helping or working with those, who associated with one Billy Kimber – at any point in his reign, if you could so call it. Eileen Clayton was intriguing, after some careful thought and deliberation, Tommy would either be in touch or not.

Gathering her purse, Eileen snubbed the cigarette out in the tin ash tray, standing from her side of the desk. Lips in a tight line, her dark curls shone when the sunlight from the dirty window met them. Her eyes fixed on the notorious man before her.

“We will be in touch, Mr. Shelby.” She repeated a variation of Tommy’s words.

On her heel, she turned after a curt nod. Casting Finn a side glance, she held her head high as she walked through to see herself out. A man such as Tommy Shelby couldn’t be bothered to see a lady to the door, not that Eileen Clayton was any sort of lady by definition.

In the corner, Finn shifted uneasily, he would have to get used to meetings like this if he wanted to be a full time Peaky Blinder. Sighing, the young man licked his lips, people were funny creatures. A woman had just walked in here, confessing things to strangers, and then walked out like it had never happened. Was it always like this?

“What did she mean, Tommy? It was an unfortunate accident? Did she kill ‘im?” Finn’s eyes were wide.

“I’m not in the habit of making Eileen Clayton’s business my own, Finn. Now go on in, tell John it’s time to go.” Tommy blew a puff of white smoke with his final words.


	2. Chapter 2

“Thomas fucking Shelby,” Polly’s eyes narrowed and her painted red lips pursed. Hanging his hat and jacket on the designated coat rack, Tommy took his time to address his irritated aunt.

“Yes, Pol?’ Tommy adjusted his sleeves and undid a button on his waist coat, preparing to take a seat at his desk.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on? Taking jobs and not bothering to include the details or thinking to tell anyone? You lot take off for London and I’m left here to deal with your dirty work?” Polly huffed at her nephew.

Only she would dare to lecture Tommy on the jobs taken by the Peaky Blinders. Cowering to the corner of the office, Finn watched wide eyed, baited breath for Tommy’s answer.

“I’ve taken on many jobs, you need to be more specific, Pol.” Tommy squared his shoulders, his eyes calm and his jaw set.

Scoffing, Polly smacked her hand against Tommy’s desk. “Don’t play dumb, not with me, Thomas. I’ve had men all but knocking on the damn door looking for you and John. Whatever business you have with Alfie Solomons this time best be worked out and cleaned up, quickly.”

Alfie Solomons had no current business with the Peaky Blinders, fucking Arthur, going behind Tommy’s back again. When Tommy saw his older brother, there would be a lecture in that meeting. How many times had he told Arthur not to get into any business, without consulting him fist?

How were the Peaky Blinders to remain at the top, if they couldn’t get their act together and work as a unit?

Tommy nodded curtly. “I’ll sort any business with Mr. Solomons.”

The answer seemed to ease Polly, as she looked less tense and her posture softened. Finn sat watching the interaction between the family elders, Aunt Polly and Tommy were always butting heads. There wasn’t a time when Finn could remember the not.

“Tell him to keep his whore out of our office as well. Walking in here like she owned the damn place, demanding she speak to you straight away.” Polly’s lip curled in distaste.

“I don’t know any ladies that keep his company,” Tommy replied, pulling a stack of papers off of the desk corner. Bets to be made, bets to be paid.

“Ada seems to think you do.” Polly looked down her nose at her nephew. “Eileen Clayton, she stormed in here claiming she’d had a meeting with you. You’d agreed to take a job for her?”

What did Eileen Clayton’s horse have to do with Alfie Solomons looking for a war?

Tommy’s crisp blue eyes darkened, his jaw tensed and the paper in his hand crumbled under the gripping pressure. “Eileen Clayton?” he repeated the name. “She had a horse, I agreed to help her with a racing issue. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Finn perked up at the mention of the woman. He had remembered her well, perfectly curled dark hair, striking eyes and a coldness that had been aimed directly at the young man who had stalked about in the corner. Eileen Clayton was the woman who had murdered her husband, so Finn was convinced.

“You may want to tell her gentleman caller that.” Polly warned.

“Yes, Pol.” Tommy was growing irritated with the idea of Eileen Clayton. “I will have words with Mrs. Clayton.”

Before he could stop them, the words were on the tip of his tongue. Sliding out and into the air, Finn could feel the wrath that was about to be laid and yet the words still came.

“I thought we weren’t to make Eileen Clayton’s business our own?” Finn piped up from the corner.

Jabbing a finger in Finn’s direction, Tommy shot him a cold glare. “And I thought you were to shut your mouth, if you wanted to be a part of these meetings? Another word and I swear I’ll…”

“Thomas, enough.” Polly groaned at her nephews. “Finn, listen to your brother this doesn’t concern you.”

Slinking back into his corner, scowling, Finn didn’t dare say another word. Tommy would deal with him later, which wasn’t much concern for Finn although he knew Tommy would be pissed. Bidding her nephews farewell, leaving Tommy to the work that awaited, Polly left the two in a cold silence.

On his desk, Tommy pawed through a few more paper stacks, grumbling to himself in a low tone. Whatever bullshit Eileen Clayton was up to had to be stopped and fast.

“Finn.” Tommy spoke curtly. “Go tell Arthur I need to see Mrs. Clayton and I need to find out why Mr. Solomons is involved.”

“Yes, sir.” Finn shot to his feet, dashing out of the office like a cat that had it’s tail caught by a rocking chair.

Tommy Shelby wasn’t accustom to waiting nor did he enjoy being kept waiting. Nearly four hours later, when Arthur knocked on the door to announce the arrival of Mrs. Clayton, the irritation in Tommy’s mood was on full display.

Casually nodding a gesture of thanks as John Shelby held the door for her, Eileen Clayton strolled into Tommy’s office. Dressed as if she were on her way to a gala, not a meeting with a gang leader, the brunette pursed her lips and her eyes locked on the man behind the desk.

“Sit.” Tommy demanded.

“I prefer to stay standing, Mr. Shelby, as I assume you won’t be pressing for too much of my time?” Her words were as chilly as Tommy remembered.

“Suit yourself.” Tommy mumbled, adjusting his position in his chair. “My associates tell me that you’ve been causing quite the disturbance, Mrs. Clayton.”

“Hmm, yes well, you see my associates have been telling me that it is you, Mr. Shelby, who is causing the disturbance. Once in which has greatly inconvenienced me. You were hired to do a job, the job requirements were never met. Is there a reason for that?” Eileen asked directing a glare at Tommy.

“No payment, no job. It’s simple as that.” Tommy answered with a cold stare.

His blue eyes were like ice, in colour and feel, as they dug holes into Eileen. Standing her ground, she refused to allow him to win. Thomas Shelby had been bullying too many in these parts and for far too long, be damned if she was going to be his next victim.

An honourable man, as he boasted to be, wouldn’t have allowed the goons to show up at the Clayton Estate. An honourable man would have finished the job he had taken. An honourable man wouldn’t have allowed his associate to wander into Eileen’s home, in the middle of the night, making demands that were not of her favour.

“You received your payment, Mr. Shelby. As did every other man who came to claim my property.” Eileen sneered at him.

“Now see here, Mrs. Clayton,” Tommy spoke, pushing himself away from his desk. He rose to his feet, towering ever so slight over Eileen. Her red lips were set in a scowl when she reached into the neck line of her dress to produce the pistol.

Frantic for their brother’s safety, John and Arthur both sprang to action, guns drawn immediately. Coldly, Tommy’s lips drew into a smirk, there was nothing to fear here. Eileen Clayton may have shot her husband, but she would never shoot a man with witnesses. No, Tommy had his doubts that her gun was even loaded.

Tommy closed his eyes for a split second, composing himself the best he could, until he could talk his way out of this. Eileen’s hands began to shake, a tell tale sign that she had no true intentions of using the gun beyond fear.

“Now, Mr. Shelby, I believe you owe me some answers.” Eileen snarled. “If I don’t believe you, then you best make your amends with God, now.”

“Go ahead,” Tommy calmly stated, his eyes burrowing into Eileen. Cocking the gun, Eileen’s jaw was set and her hand shaking ever so slightly. “Pull the trigger.” he challenged, the barrel of the gun to his forehead. “Pull the trigger on me, DO IT!” Tommy shouted, his eyes engulfed in anger.

“I don’t want to shoot you,” Eileen’s voice quaked but the gun never moved.

“Then why do you have a fucking gun to my head?” Tommy was seething mad. If she wasn’t going to do it, then why bother to threaten? “Either you shoot me or not.”

Across the room, John’s gun was waiting and aimed at the dark haired woman threatening his brother. One false move and the trigger would be clenched and the bullet released from the chamber.

“For fuck’s sake, can somebody make a bloody move?” Arthur sighed, bored with the situation at hand. His gun pointed in Eileen’s direction, ready to take Tommy’s order, if the moment came.

“Arthur.” Tommy hissed, raising his hands he calmly sighed. “Can we not be civilized about this?”

“Civilized went out the door, when Alfie Solomons had me stalked down and threatened in my own home. You, Tommy Shelby, wouldn’t know about that?” Eileen jabbed the gun a little closer to his forehead. She wasn’t bluffing, she’d shoot him alright. “Or what about my horse? I’ve had Ó Cleirigh’s men ransacking my estate.”

“Tommy?” Arthur asked tipping his chin and gun toward the woman holding his younger brother hostage.

“No, Arthur.” Tommy growled. “Mrs. Clayton, I assure you…”

From somewhere a gunshot like noise of a backfiring engine rang out, causing Arthur to shout and John to react. Without thought, the trigger was clenched and the bullet set free from the chamber. Yelling loudly, Tommy’s face drained and his heart thumped as Eileen Clayton dropped to the floor.

“Fuck!” Tommy shouted in rage. “John you fucking idiot!”


End file.
